Death Note: What If?
by BorntothePurple
Summary: Complete AU: What if the notebook had fallen into the hands of an average Joe instead? Albeit an average Joe with serious issues?  I got a bunch of reads and no reviews! Would really love a little feedback pretty please?


_I do not own Death Note, of the concept of Death Note. All OC characters belong to me. Note: this is loosely based on Death Note, but is really a non-canon story. I am exploring the concept of what would have happened if the notebook had been found by an average guy- albeit one with issues._

White. You would think nothingness would be black, but all I see around me is white. I turn around, but it's as if white sheets are hanging all around me. I can almost see them billowing. I stretch out my hand, but I feel nothing. I'm not surprised. I hear a voice. It is unlike any voice I have ever heard. It is so deep I'm not sure if I am hearing it or actually feeling it in every cell of my … body?

"An accounting," says the voice. "Tell your story…"

I know what is being asked of me. I feel that I have no choice but to tell this mysterious presence why I'm here…

"Tell me you're kidding." I was sitting at the local bar across from Dennis Harris, my longtime friend.

"Dead serious. Hey, I said DEAD serious. Heh." Dennis wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He was drunk.

"Dennis…ok. Reality check. There is no magic notebook. Your step-father had a heart attack. You didn't kill him by writing his name down in some stupid notebook. You're drunk."

Dennis wasn't laughing anymore. "I'm telling you the truth. I just did what the kid said. All I had to do was write that old asshole's name down. And poof! He croaks! And I get my money. Easy as pie."

"You really believe this, don't you?" I was beginning to worry. Dennis was an odd bird, but he had never said something that crazy before. I glanced at my watch. "Damn! I have to get home. Carol's getting off of work and she'll be pissed if I'm not there with Shawn."

"Guess we better go," Dennis said. I remembered with a groan that he had left his car at my place. I threw a couple of twenties on the bar and headed out.

Soon we were pulling up to my house. I hopped out and Dennis followed. He was clutching a notebook.

"Ok, it looks like she isn't home yet. You better-"

"I gotta take a leak."

"Oh for Christ's sake…"

Dennis elbowed past me and headed to the bathroom. He left the notebook lying on the table. I leafed through it.

The toilet flushed and Dennis came up to me.

"Listen Frank," he said. "Everyone knows what a controlling bitch that wife of yours is. Hell, you complain about her all the time! What kind of wife would give her guy such a hard time just for having a few beers? I mean, come on, running home all the time just to please her, like some little boy who's scared of his momma?"

I frowned. I didn't like the direction this was going in. "She wants me to be home for Shawn."

"That kid is ten years old! He doesn't need you there every minute of every day. You know, you should get rid of her for his sake too. You don't want him growing up to be a momma's boy, do you?"

"Leave my son out of this." I said harshly. I loved my son. I hated my wife, but I loved my son.

"Listen Frank- divorce her, and you'll be paying child support forever, not to mention she'll get half of everything. Those lawyers can bleed you dry! Just write her name. In the book. Like I did. Easy as anything."

"This is ridiculous," I said. But I was thinking. Ok, so it probably wasn't possible. It had to be just coincidence that it worked before. But if it didn't work, what was there to lose?

"So if I write a person's name down, they die?"

"Yep."

I sighed. "Ok, I'll do it. God knows, I hate that woman."

Dennis slapped me on the back, grinning.

"Walk me to the car, buck-o," he said. "Tomorrow you'll be celebrating."

"Yeah, you better leave before she comes home-"

I stopped.

He looked at me, and we both burst out laughing.

"Ok," said sheepishly, and walked him to the door.

I turned back and froze. Shawn was standing by the table. The book was open before him. There were tears in his eyes, and I realized he'd heard the entire conversation. He was holding a ballpoint pen from the kitchen drawer.

"Shawn," I said. "Oh Shawn…"

"You're going to kill mommy?"

I couldn't speak.

Tears were flowing down his cheeks. "I'm sorry, daddy."

He wrote something down in the book.

"Shawn," I started, then stopped. I felt a pain in my heart.


End file.
